


missing or corrupted

by leedeeloo



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, Wild goose chase, misuse of a yoda puppet, really uncomfortable one sided feelings, teen!sung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedeeloo/pseuds/leedeeloo
Summary: It was all supposed to be a normal lazy day, until, of course, Sung went and made it exciting. Unintentionally, he leads the band on a wild adventure, still managing to stumble behind.





	1. Doc gets got

**Author's Note:**

> new chapters of this all this week thank u hopefully they will be up earlier in the day

It was one of those normal, lazy days. Sung and Havve were doing whatever it was they did in the basement, while Phobos and Meouch took the living room. Phobos’ ability to sprawl across the couch with a guitar in his lap made it impossible for nearly anyone to move or sit by him, and with Meouch seated by him, game controller in hand, he found it more impressive than annoying.

It was an interesting symphony; Phobos doing scales, plucking notes, making weird little melodies, to the background of periodic gunfire from the TV, Meouch running through terrain, characters yelling at him. Just had they had both truly started to relax, just gotten into a calming rhythm, Sung managed to ruin everything.

"AUGH!"

A sudden, guttural scream, just barely muffled through the floor, rang out from the basement, making them both jolt suddenly. After the initial startle had worn off, Meouch snorted, the clacking of his controller starting again. 

"You think he'd be better at this by now," he commented, and Phobos scoffed out a laugh, lightly kicking Meouch with his heel. Soon enough they were back to their quiet enjoyments, Phobos strumming out notes and chords, Meouch mumbling softly to himself. 

Then there was a thumping, stomps, perfectly in time, up the basement steps and getting closer, louder. The basement door burst open, flung open hard enough to bounce against the wall, but not enough to hit Havve as he stood there.

"Jesus, Havve," Meouch cursed, pausing his game. "You scared the piss out of me."

Havve just glowered at them.

Phobos pulled his guitar off his lap, moved to stand, glanced between Havve and Meouch. Havve waved his hand, beckoning them towards him, towards the basement. He didn't start to head down until they both came over. Even coming down the stairs, he kept peering over his shoulder at them, as if he was looking for some reaction from them. Phobos matched him, trying to peer around Meouch's head and shoulders. Meouch stopped sharply at the bottom, and Phobos crashed into him. Havve continued on.

Sung was slumped at his work bench, head back against his chair, body limp and wires trailing off him. His core glowed through his shirt, these long, slow, pulses, like a computer in standby. His eye was open, but he wasn't awake. The colour of his iris was this deep blue, like the edge of the sky after sunset. 

There was a computer on his bench next to him, the old piece of junk he kept, tinkered with. It was on, lit up the same dim blue as his eye, a message on its screen:

[REBOOT? Y/N]

"Hogan," Meouch finally said after taking it all in, "what happened?"

Havve seemed to hesitate for a minute. His hands hovered in the air, one going for his jaw, and then stopped. They both moved, signing, rather than turning on his voice. That was too slow for this, apparently.

"Don't know what Sung was doing," he eventually got out, "I think he was making a new backup. Something went wrong and he yelled. I checked him out and I think he lost some of his memory." It was slow, almost stilted, and he spelled out a lot of it.

"He lost-- how much did he lose?" 

Havve just shrugged.

"Great," Meouch mumbled, running a hand through his mane, scratching his scalp. 

"He could have just lost up to his last sleep cycle," Havve signed

"So we'll boot him back up," Phobos signed, stepping around Meouch. He put his hands on his hips, then wavered, raised them again. "That won't break him, right?"

Havve didn't answer. He just moved to Sung's desk, and hit enter.

The prompt went away, and wasn't replaced by anything for a moment. Names of systems popped up, loaded bits, and left just as quickly. Most of it was readable, Sung's named systems something understandable. 

Eventually everything stopped.

An error noise. A metallic  _ pop _ .

[Data has been corrupted. Load backup?]

There was a small sigh of relief. He'd lost the day, or however long he'd been awake, but he was fine. Still there. Havve accepted it yet again.

[Loading backup from -891/68.349]. 

As quickly as the message appeared, it was gone.

"The hell was that?" Meouch asked. Again, Havve only shrugged.

_ Looks ancient as shit _ , Phobos said mentally, making Meouch at least nervously glance around, while Havve only stared at Sung.

Sung sat up in his seat, perfect posture. His mouth moved, sound came out, and they all knew the sound translated as "calibrating" but that wasn't what they heard. It was translated for them, he wasn't speaking English. 

The colour of Sung's iris shifted to its usual colour, a brighter blue, and he started to look around the room. His ears moved, taking in all the sounds he could, and eventually he settled on the trio clustered in front of him.

"Hello!" he said, that same dissonance of sound and meaning. "I'm Doctor Sung, may I ask your names?"

"You don't remember," Meouch mumbled.

"Hm?" Sung asked, leaning forward. "Remember what?" He tilted his head, polite smile on his face. "Has something happened?"

The three other members of the band shared a look. Sung didn't recognize any of them, not even Havve, but at least he knew who he was, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

It did, however, hit all the criteria for an awkward moment. Thankfully, Sung was flat out too young again to really grasp that.

Or too alien.

He looked at everyone, this curious glimmer in his eye, but the hue shifting to something cautious, afraid. An elbow to his side, and Meouch spoke up.

“You got rebooted, so you’re not when you think you are.” They all waited for Sung to respond.

He nodded, slowly. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Meouch asked.

“Oh, let’s see,” Sung mumbled, looking up. That disconnect persisted, the shape of his mouth matching his words only retroactively, the sounds they heard not really they ones he was making. “My parents were hooking me up to do a back up before I leave home the next day.”

Meouch looked back to Phobos, then Havve. Havve tilted his head, if Phobos had pupils they would’ve blown out. 

_ He’s like, 16.  _ Havve buzzed in their heads. It was strange, still carried that robotic tone.  _ Like, maturity-wise. He’s an even bigger idiot than usual. _

“Wh- sixteen?” Meouch hissed, looking over his shoulder at Havve, keeping an eye on Sung. “Isn’t that kinda young to be, y’know, sent off planet?” 

Phobos piped up.  _ They send kids in England to college that young. _

“That’s England!” Meouch said through his teeth. “And that’s college, not space!”

“Is there a problem?” Sung asked. For the first time, worry seeped through his voice. “Am I-- have I been damaged?”

“No,” Meouch responded, “no, we’re sure you’re fine. You’re just a long time and place away from when you last remember.”

Sung nodded again. “And where is that? And who are all of you?” he finally asked.

Havve shoved Meouch back, determined to answer. His hand to his jaw, his slow voice croaking out, he gave Sung their full names; Meouch first, then Phobos, then himself. His other hand waved in a circle, gesturing to all four of them.

“Friends,” he said simply, then pushed out, “fam-uh-lee.”

“Oh!” Sung perked up, clasped his hands together. “Oh, you’re my crew!” With that he started to stand up, and the shout that came out of the other three was just enough force to knock him back down. 

“You’re still plugged in!” Meouch shouted. 

"Oh," Sung said softly. "Should I be unplugged then?"

Meouch looked to Havve. Havve didn't look back. "...I guess so?" Havve stepped forward, the only one other than Sung that knew where his ports were. He slipped in behind Sung's chair without much fuss, his hand going to Sung's ear, and pulling something out of the bone there, making Sung wince. 

"Warn him first?" Meouch muttered, intonation going up at the end of his request.

Havve seemed to glare, then nodded. His hand cupped the back of Sung's head, and he tapped a few times either side his neck, closing in on where the wire was connected. A light warning tug, and then a firm yank. Sung still made a soft noise, but didn't jerk.

"Does it hurt?" Meouch asked.

"No," Sung said, starting to shake his head. "It doesn't feel good, but it doesn't hurt."

Meouch glanced to Havve, a sudden movement of his hand. A kind of "come here" motion, but more upwards.

Meouch copied it. "He needs ya to stand up."

As soon as Sung did, Havve pulled up the bottom of his shirt with one hand, the other pulling something away from Sung's skin; a wider, flat cable, that with his shirt pulled up, Meouch and Phobos could see it wind from his back to his front, presumably to his core.

"Hey!" Sung shouted, starting to turn and smack Havve's hands away. He stopped just as quickly, afraid to rip something.

Havve gave something of a pleading look to Meouch.

Meouch raised his eyebrows in response. The core seemed like something they maybe shouldn't tell him about. It seemed like a bit much to drop on a kid. Havve tilted his head, got that glint in his optics, and Meouch relented.

"...There's a port on your chest, too. The cable for it's taped around your torso, that's what he's getting."

Sung glanced down at himself, at his chest. He touched it gingerly, fingers over the glow pouring out the fabric. "I... I can take it out," he said. 

Havve's hands hovered in the air.

"Let him get it off your back, first."

Sung nodded. He reached behind himself, pulled his shirt up himself, exposing it to Havve. Havve, for once, didn't seem to hold a grudge and simply plucked the tape off Sung's skin and the wire until he reached his front. Then he stepped away, seeming intent on leaving completely.

"Where are you going?" Sung asked.

Havve stared. 

All Sung could hear was the hum of the fluorescent lights.

"You said you could take it out," Meouch said after he'd heard it from Havve.

Sung frowned. "Well, I changed my mind."

Havve shook his head, and plodded back. Meouch smirked, Phobos nodded.

"What?" Sung asked.

"He says you're as fickle as the day y'all met." Meouch's smile wavered for a moment, and he straightened. "Well, he didn't say 'y'all', but, y'know--"

Havve waved a hand over his shoulder, now standing in front of Sung. He gestured to the bottom of Sung's shirt, waiting for him.

As soon as Sung pulled it up, he was distracted, the flush on his face fading as he looked at his core for what felt like the first time. 

The wire snaking up to it was flat and wide, the opaque coating of it fading as it got closer to the core. It was hard to tell with all the light coming out just where everything attached, but Havve barely needed to look. It was at the bottom, the plug flat, almost flush to Sung's chest, not even noticeable through the tshirt he'd been wearing. He took his time unplugging it, working in sections it seemed. One edge disconnecting, then the other, and finally the middle. Sung let out a sigh, Havve able to pull out the cord without any discomfort on his part.

Sung put his palm over his core. He seemed to be inspecting it, carefully taping the glass, feeling the edge of it, the divide between metal and skin. 

Then he stopped.

Ran his hand down his stomach. Stretched his head back, trying to look at himself, his body. He twisted, and turned, inspecting his form now.

"...Sung?" Meouch asked.

"I grow up to look like this, huh," Sung mumbled, a pride clear in his voice.

"Yeah," Meouch mumbled, folding his arms and looking at the ceiling. "Anyway, we--"

"Anyways," Sung interrupted, letting his shirt fall and dusting off his hands, "I should contact my parents."

"Why?" Meouch demanded more than asked. Sung didn't seem fazed.

"Well, I might have sent them a more recent backup."

"I doubt it," Meouch said. "We should--"

"--And I suppose they'd want to know I've been reset."

"That'll just worry them," Meouch spat out before he could listen to the other's panicked protests. "You're a long way away from them," he continued, "so by the time they'll hear from you, we'll probably have you right as rain anyway, so you'll have gotten them worried about nothing!"

"Rain..?" Sung mumbled, then deciding to drop it. He mulled it over for a moment. "Still..."

"Besides, this isn't the kind of thing you'd usually update them on right away, you’ve got more important things to tell them." Meouch hoped that was enough to kill this topic, that he still knew Sung well enough to know he'd get too excited at the idea of an adventurous and action packed life to keep pressing this. 

Sung looked at all of them. At Phobos and Havve nodding sagely, wisely, like this was just a normal day for them.

"Alright," Sung said eventually. "I may not know you, but you are my crew, so I trust you all with this." He smiled. Warm, charming. "Since my Commander says so, I'll listen."


	2. [gasp] a child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the wonderful companion piece is 

When Havve was determined to do something, it truly was a sight to see. Meouch tended to forget he was actually capable of giving a shit, but there were moments that passion would just smack him in the face. Usually, it was when Havve was drumming, his daily drills to keep his skills perfect.

Now, it was Havve methodically going through Sung's room, through his every belonging, searching for any possible hint as to what he'd put a more recent backup on. Meouch watched him from the doorway of Sung's room, as he'd traverse across the room, stand in place still as stone as he searched a section, then dash off across the floor again. He glanced over his shoulder, into the living room; Phobos was keeping Sung occupied in much the same way he was entertaining himself earlier, with a guitar in his lap, improvising tunes and melodies. 

"I'm right, right? For not telling him?" Meouch asked in a low voice, not expecting a response from Havve. "Like, It would just upset him, and we all know what  _ that _ would do to him-- can you imagine how much more up shit’s creek we’d be if he freaked out and we had to drag around his body and--”

_ Could you shut the fuck up if you’re not gonna help? _ Havve hollered between their minds, startling Meouch, almost making his head pound with the ferocity.

Meouch hunched his shoulders, hackles raised, about to respond in kind, but held back. “Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, urging himself to calm. “It’d be him we’d still be dragging around, not--”

_ Whatever. _ Havve interrupted.  _ Go find his phone for me _ .

Meouch, not smart enough to know what not to say, was still smart enough to know when to run away. He backed out of Sung’s room, leaving Havve to his search, and to investigate what Phobos was up to.

He sauntered over and leaned an arm on the back of the couch, looming over Phobos and Sung. Phobos’ playing did not stop, but both he and Sung looked up at Meouch. A flat  _ what _ echoed through his head, from Phobos.

“Hey buddy,” Meouch said, directing it to Sung, “y’got anything in your pockets?”

Sung stared back at him as though he had no idea what Meouch had said. As though there was a translation error, and he had no clue as to what a ‘pocket’ was. But eventually, he did start to pat at them, then he stretched out, lifted his hips off the couch to dig in them one at a time without standing up.

He held his left hand in a fist, then his right, then sat back down properly before opening them.

“I have some metal!” he said brightly, looking up at Meouch with a proud smile. 

Meouch looked at the quarter and the bits of lint he was presented with. 

“You can hang onto that.” With that, Meouch ruffled his hair, and stalked off towards the basement. A tug in his mind made him look back over his shoulder to see Phobos signing at him.

“What’s up?”

“Havve wants his phone,” he answered before slipping downstairs.

The door at the top of the stairs clicked shut, and Phobos was left with Sung again.

If no one looked too closely, he was doing really well with keeping their leader occupied. Sung wasn’t pacing around in a panic, he wasn’t insisting on some course of action or letting off that awful anxious stink. He was smiling, almost laughing, watching Phobos pluck notes.

There was just one little problem.

One tiny little problem.

It was just this itsy bitsy, absolutely minuscule slip up, just the smallest little oversight they had all made. It should have stayed small, but like everything else seemed to be, it was a snowball rolling down a hill on a warm February day, picking up snow and mass with the tiniest effort.

Phobos and Sung couldn’t talk.

The translation tech, implanted in all of them, only half worked on this old backup of Sung. It didn’t exist when he was this version of himself, he hadn’t made it yet, so it was impressive they were able to understand him speaking and vice versa.

Just speaking. Just out loud, with their voices.

The telepathic connection they all usually had, that Phobos and Havve relied on to communicate, no longer worked. Sitting next to Sung was like sitting next to an untuned radio. Phobos wouldn’t hear much of anything, just strange blips that he could misinterpret as something, but it wasn’t enough. The technology was clearly still on and working, but Sung had no knowledge of it, and no way to control or direct it.

Signing was right out as well. They never needed to translate it, they’d all learned it together once they’d gotten to earth. Phobos had tried, he kept trying, but Sung’s eye only went to that confused shade of green, never even really understanding Phobos was trying to say something.

The only thing that mostly worked was writing. Translating from English to whatever the hell Sung was saying was an absolute disaster through writing, but thankfully, that wasn’t all Phobos had.

He still remembered his mother tongue. 

Kind of.

Phobos still practised at it, tried to keep it in his mind. The first time he grabbed a notepad and pen, Sung watching him, it felt like a long shot. The translator was pretty shoddy on visual stuff, and he cursed himself for never caring about that until now. 

It was just a simple sentence to test it at first. Slowly and neatly written, the grammar stiff and too formal, Phobos was sure.

“ _ Can you read this? _ ”

Sung’s eye widened, that curious green flickered and settled on a bright, excited blue. “Yes!” he almost shouted, “yes, I can!” He took the pad and pen from Phobos, and started writing with a flurry, slowing to a stop after what looked like two words. He took his time after that, and eventually showed Phobos a clumsily penned “ _ my name is Doctor Sung _ .”

Which is roughly where they were at when Meouch came in and left, torn notepad sheets and backs of receipts strewn across the couch, the coffee table, the floor, all of Phobos’ efforts to talk to Sung, keep him entertained while everyone else figured out what to do.

“What’s a phone?” Sung asked once Meouch was out of the room. 

As Phobos wrote out a response, Sung inspected his quarter. He was dragging the edge of his nail over the ridged edge, making a soft  _ tk-tk-tk _ noise up and down. Phobos handed over his response; it’s a communicator. 

Sung nodded. Held the quarter out. “And this?”

Phobos started to write what he considered to be a simple answer, labelling it currency. Then he paused. Did Sung know what that was then? Did they have money on his home planet? Phobos wasn’t sure, and when he wasn’t sure, that usually meant no. So, he had to go long winded, explain that it was something people here traded for things they needed and wanted but that particular one Sung was holding was worth very little.

After reading Phobos’ careful response, Sung only said, “oh, it’s money,” and placed the quarter on the coffee table.

Not about to let that get to him, Phobos started strumming again, establishing a tune, then stopped, waiting for Sung to continue it. Which he did; nervously, softly, mostly humming. It was weird, seeing their charismatic leader acting like a shy kid-- he was, for all intents and purposes, but he didn’t look like it. 

Phobos stopped strumming, placing his palm over the strings, creating a hollow stop. He held up a finger, hoping Sung would infer he meant for him to wait, and stood, leaving his guitar.

Havve didn’t notice Phobos coming into the room. He didn’t walk past Havve, he just needed something Havve had already passed by; one of Sung’s older keyboards. Packed away, leaning in his closet, and Phobos snatched it without much fuss.

He set it up with the same lack of fanfare, directly in front of a continuously confused Sung. He didn't seem to understand until Phobos leaned over it, hitting a few keys and creating perfectly warm notes. Sung eagerly followed suit, his fingers nervously hitting keys, creating small discordant melodies. 

After a moment, Sung looked up, unsure. "Where did you get this from? Is it yours?"

Phobos took a pad of paper, held it in his palm as he wrote an answer. Big clumsy letters, ignoring the lines of the page. 

_ It's yours. _

There was a sudden jump in his excitement, giving Phobos the feeling and scent of a static shock across his face, and it was matched with a jump in pure noise; Sung attacked the keys with reckless abandon, enjoying the process of making sounds rather than expending effort to make them sound good.

He really, truly, had forgotten everything.

It the midst of Sung discovering the different settings and Phobos beginning to wonder if it was rude to cover his ears, a loud "HEY" cut through the sound, bypassing his ears and going straight to his mind-- Havve.

Phobos looked at him, just in time to see Havve toss something at him from the doorway of Sung's room. Phobos snatched it from the air, Havve out of his sight before he could look at him.

A rubber Yoda puppet.

Phobos put it on his hand, opened its mouth experimentally a few times, and then waved his hand over the keys, getting Sung's attention. He curled his fingers in the puppet, giving it an underbite, the rubber moving and contorting to cross its eyes. Phobos mimicked the expression, getting a shriek of laughter from Sung.

* * *

After clicking the basement door shut, it just felt right to tiptoe down the stairs, rather than Meouch's usual thumps. Like every other time he came down here, Meouch had the distinct feeling that he didn't belong, that he was intruding and needed to leave. It was the drop in temperature, the spike in humidity, the hanging lights that were blinding yet never seemed to fill the room, never got to the corners.

Everything was left the way it was that evening, the computer fallen into sleep mode, tools and wires simply dropped. 

The only thing not dropped and forgotten on the work bench was Sung's phone. Of course not. Meouch took a quick scan over the surfaces in the room, but couldn't see it. He started searching through drawers but then thought of a better strategy. He went back to the stairs, clicked lights off until only the one over the stairs was on. Then he took his phone out, and called Sung. 

His ears perked, listening for the steady on-off buzz of it vibrating. His pupils widened, eyes scanning across the room for the slight change in light of the phone screen turning on, the notification light, any of it. 

Meouch walked through the darkened lab, keeping close attention of the floor, anything that could be covering it. Eventually he got on his knees, crawling along the floor, eyes still wide open, carefully searching.

"There ya are," he muttered, finally finding it; under the portion of work desk Sung was sitting at, clearly dropped and kicked in the sliver of space under the stack of drawers that worked as a support. That pulse of light, no vibration at all. 

Meouch stood, grabbing his phone from where he’d set it down, hanging up, and shoving it back into his pocket. He gripped the edge of the table, intending to simply pick it up and slide it over. 

A heave and it was up-- and a sudden cacophony exploded from upstairs, causing him to jerk in surprise, almost dropping the table back down.

A glance up, and he could only shake his head and scoff. "Now I know you're not pulling our legs," Meouch muttered before shuffling sideways, the desk lightly scraping against the wall.

Once he'd retrieved the phone, he stayed sat on the floor as he clicked on the screen. He sighed as soon as he saw the lock screen; of course Sung would have the thumbprint scan on, but that didn't matter. He stood up with a grunt. Havve would have some way to bypass that. Or, novel idea, they could just ask the guy to unlock it. Either way, they were almost done with this nonsense.

On his way back up the stairs, Meouch noticed there was a sudden end to the noise.

Back into the living room, he realized why; Phobos was in the middle of the room, that ridiculous Yoda puppet Sung had gotten a little while ago on his hand, pulled into one of it's usual facial expressions, Phobos mimicking it almost perfectly.

Meouch did the only reasonable thing he could: he pointed and laughed, a loud, throaty, cackle.

Phobos threw the puppet in his face with a satisfying smack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do u know how long i agonized abt whether to keep the perspective with meouch or switch to phobos before someone was like "why not do both"  
> do you know how long i then agonized over which one to do first.  
> please leave comments about how great addy is, thank u


	3. now, we wife

"Well?" Meouch asked.

_ Hm _ . Havve responded mentally.

" _ Hm _ ?" Meouch and Phobos repeated in their own ways.

_ He has backup instructions _ . Havve explained.  _ I think _ .

"You th-- gimmie that." Meouch swiped the phone from Havve's hand, squinting at the screen.

It was a simple reminder in Sung's notes, an obvious place to keep things, and the first place Havve had looked. It was even titled “backup locations.” The one they were likely using was described as “old school” and followed by a string of numbers and slashes-- some kind of timestamp, a date format Meouch wasn't familiar with. There were two more; one with a similar string of letters as a date, titled “ew”. The other was entirely in Sung's strange shorthand, using punctuation in place of letters, no date stamp; it was simply labelled "CURRENT".

"Hm," Meouch mumbled.

_ Told you, _ Havve quipped.

_ Does “ew” mean it's somewhere gross? _ Phobos pondered.

"Maybe," Meouch mumbled. He held the phone out to Sung, showing him. "Any of this sound familiar to you?" he asked, going for a long shot.

Sung looked at it for long enough to give them hope.

"Nope!" he chirped, dashing it.

A good group sigh, and they began to ponder it.

_ What's ew to Sung _ ? Havve asked, folding his arms. He craned his neck up, pulling out every thinking animation he could.

_ An anthill? _ Phobos offered.

"You room?" Meouch countered, earning himself a smack in the arm.

As they bickered, Havve continued to brainstorm. He went from shifting his weight back and forth to outright pacing, glancing back at Sung for inspiration. Finally, he got something. He stalked off with a purpose, everyone following him instinctively.

Havve led them upstairs and down the hallway past all their rooms, to the door into the attic, which he yanked open and pulled the ladder down without much effort. Sung looked at everything with stars in his eye, absolutely fascinated with how large this house was, and how there seemed to be so much more, so much stuff packed behind doors and around corners.

It was a winding path in the attic, turning back the way they came almost instantly, to a too short closet door. Havve pulled it open, revealing stairs that started in the door frame. He went in first, reached up, and pushed something, causing a hydraulic hiss, metal groaning, and he kept on upwards.

Their old ship had the best parking spot in the neighbourhood; the roof of their house. It was a little off kilter, sure, and it only had enough power to keep the cloaking on rather than actually go anywhere, but at the very least they still had it.

Of course Sung recognized it.

He laughed as soon as he got in, almost slipping and falling in the tilted ship, looking around as everyone tried to balance.

"This is Ahm and Layna's ship!" he exclaimed, naming his mothers. "Did they get a new one? Is that why I have it?"

No one wanted to answer that.

Havve made his way to the console. It had been a while since he'd used this ship, but he still remembered how to turn on what he needed. He tried to sit in the captain's seat as best he could, grabbing onto the arm rest to hold himself up. A few switches flipped and the craft started humming, the console and floor lights coming on.

Meouch finagled his way next to Havve, on the higher ground and leaning against the seat Havve was clinging to. "Power bill's gonna be off the charts this month," he said.

Havve nodded slightly, the barest acknowledgement. He was focused on the console screen, and once he started turning on the communications, Meouch knew what he was doing.

"Oh," he said, "E.W., not ew."

Finally Sung and Phobos came over; Phobos wormed his way between Havve and Meouch, letting the latter lean against him. Sung took the other side of Havve, clinging to the armrest, chair back, as if he were a child hanging from monkey bars.

As soon as the contacts loaded in, Havve selected the one labelled LW - EW.

It started ringing like a telephone as soon as Havve clicked it.

"You think she'll actually pick up?" Meouch asked, not noticing how Sung perked up at 'she'.

_ Why wouldn't she _ ? Havve rebuked.

"It's from us, first off." As soon as Meouch said that, however, the line picked up.

The screen was blank for a moment, and then it clicked on; a holographic projection in a monochrome of green. Meouch and Havve both exclaimed "Circe!" in excitement.

It was hard to tell the colour of her metal with the projection, but she didn't seem to look much different; a humanoid head, smooth and round at the top, with a visor going over where her eyes would be, no image discernible on it. either side of her head were antenna sticking out, like radio receptors. She smiled, thankfully not annoyed with the sudden call. There was a difference in colour between her neck; her shoulders and head the same colour.

"It's been a while." Even over the comm connection her voice was still distinct; low, this cool indifference to her tone designed to be sultry. She spoke slowly, just like she always had, that same thoughtful production of her words that Havve had.

"It's. Sung," Havve started, switching back to his slow external voice. 

The smile fell off her face, and she tilted her head quizzically.

Meouch stepped in, explaining before Havve could, “Doc got reset, and the backup we found is way old. We thought you might have a more recent one?”

“My, my,” Circe said, “that is a pickle.” There was a sound like her clicking her tongue, and she brought her hand up to her face; visible joints in her fingers, nails formed on the tips of them, tapping at her lip. Her visor flickered, horizontal lines scrolling down it like an old fashioned television. 

“I do believe I have one but-- how old is the one you’re using now?” Even without eyes, she focused her gaze on Sung. He stared back, blushing, licked his lips and looked down. 

“S’from just before he left his home planet,” Meouch answered.

“Oh,” Circe said. “Oh, my, that’s quite out of date.”

The boys nodded.

She smiled. Looked at Sung again. “I guess mine will have to do them, hm?”

Sung nodded frantically, his grip starting to slide. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled.

“You can. Send it,” Havve cut in, glancing down at the console. “Just. Need to--”

“No, I’ll bring it,” Circe interrupted. It was the fastest she’d spoken so far. Before anyone could protest, she continued, “I was just heading off planet, you’re just a slight detour away, it’s no trouble. Besides,” she slowed down, got her smile back, “we shouldn’t risk this being corrupted or lost in transit, hm?”

“Yeah, but--” Meouch tried to insist.

But Circe ended the call, with only a notification that she’d requested their location left on the screen.

* * *

Obviously, it was a formal occasion, so they all got dressed up. The usual attire, the stuff Circe would have expected of them; the suits, and the armour, Sung hanging onto his cone with an uncertainty.

They hadn't sent over their exact location; the neighbours would talk. They picked something a little out of the city, some clearing off the highway they were sure no one would be watching too closely. Phobos drove, the most alert at the middle of the night, Sung behind him watching the city, the country, whip by.

Once they got to the agreed upon location, Havve fussed over him, helping him pull the helmet on as he sat in the car doorway.

"It's heavy," he muttered when he stood, head wobbling. "Do I gotta wear this?"

Havve tapped the center of his chest, mirroring where Sung's core sat. "Helps," he croaked out simply, and left it at that.

It was near dawn, the sun just barely peering over the horizon behind them. They each took a side of the van, none of them quite sure what they were looking for, but confident they'd know it when they saw it.

There was a thumping, Phobos hitting the hood of the car. He'd spotted her.

Everyone came over, scanning the horizon.

Opposite of the sunrise, out of the dark, there she was. This shimmer among the stars, a slight warp in the dark of the sky. As quick as they all spotted it, her ship was over them. That same kind of cloaking shimmer as their ship parked indefinitely, barely a noise as it distorted the sky over them.

A beam of light came down from some point in the sky; more streetlight than spot light, and it slowly widened to about a meter across. The light flickered from the top down, it's colour shifting; a band of pink moving down a yellow beam, and when the pink hit the ground, Circe solidified in front of them. She was as tall as Meouch, just like always, all shades of pink and matte metal. The light around her dimmed, and she looked only a little less angelic than usual.

Havve was the first to greet her. He walked up, hand outstretched, and she held his fingers between hers, a gentle hold.

"It's nice to see you again, Havve Hogan." The comm couldn't have properly transmitted her voice; smooth, almost a drawl with a gravely finish. She smiled, her visor shifting to a rosey pink. 

Phobos was next, getting a similar "handshake" and a question about his garden, which he seemed to answer, and she seemed to acknowledge, raising eyebrows she didn’t have.

She asked Meouch how he was, and his quip that things could be better got a warm chuckle from her.

She didn't say anything to Sung, just came straight to him. She took one of his hands in both of hers, that same gentle handshake with a confident grasp. Despite being made of metal and having come straight out of space, she was warm to the touch, a skin-like pliability to her.

"Oh, Doctor Sung," she said, "I've missed you."

Sung's face got hot, his mouth dry. He looked down sharply, almost hitting her with the top of his cone, no longer used to its height. "Do you now," he muttered.

She took a hand off of his, gently moved his cone back, tilting his face back up.

A smirk. A smile. A grin.

Circe let out a sudden, loud, laugh, taking her hand away to cover her mouth, the other to her stomach.

She stopped as suddenly as she started, a soft sigh of an exhale. She kept her fingers over her mouth for a moment, pulling at her smile. She reached out for him, her hand cupping the side of his helmet, where his ear cover jutted out. "I really do," she said, just loud enough for him to hear. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" Sung repeated. "I-- yes, I think-- yes, I'm ready."

"Take off your helmet," Circe instructed.

"Havve said it helps." As if it would explain anything, Sung tapped at his chest, his core.

"I need to get to your forehead," she actually explained. "I'll be quick."

Sung glanced over to Havve for permission. Havve nodded.

"I don't know how to take it off."

Circe's fingers went to his chin, undoing the strap with a practised ease, something she'd been programmed to do. When she started to lift it off his head, his hands followed hers, and he held his helmet, inverted, tip tapping against his knees.

One of Circe's hands went to the back of Sung's head, the other around his waist. She moved him easily, dipping him backwards until their foreheads almost touched.

It was the first time he had looked her in the eye. Something about the way her visor flickered made Sung feel like she was closing her eyes-- or trying to tell him to do it. He did, and that was when she pres sed their foreheads together, the sudden warmth making him gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next ones a short one so i might just throw it up tonight.


	4. "oh" like a breath out, "oh" like finally understanding something in class, "oh" like mourning acceptance joy and pain all hit at once

Sung opened his eye mid gasp, his body moved, not having to get out of Circe's embrace like he expected. He was standing, not holding onto anything like he thought he was.

Everything was bright, not the cool night it had been, definitely not outside anymore. Sung looked around, suddenly captivated. It was like he was inside a tunnel, or a tube, perhaps a dome; every which way he turned it was like he was facing the entrance of a long hallway. Trails of light streamed down it, always coming from the distance and moving towards him. He started to walk down it when there was a tug of resistance at his arm.

Circe was holding his hand.

She smiled, took a step to encourage him along.

He kept walking, leading, head turning and mouth open in amazement. The distances of everything kept changing, a shimmering pink with a flicker, moving in a line-- again, always forwards to whichever way Sung was facing. 

Soon enough, he started rambling; menial stuff, retelling his day to Circe. How he was scared waking up and seeing strangers in a strange place, but something felt right and familiar so he trusted them. That he had an inkling they were keeping things from him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“This version of me is going to be gone soon, anyway,” Sung said as he looked out into the distance. He didn’t have his helmet on here, and with no visor to hide his face, Circe could see all the shifting colours of his iris. 

She could see his expression gain this maturity right before her.

“Do you remember when it loaded from?” Circe asked, surely interrupting him.

It took Sung a moment to answer. “...Oh! Yes! Yeah, I do. It was from just before I left home, as my parents were, ah, they were linking me up before…” He trailed off, dropping his gaze. His sudden quiet reeked of melancholy, and Circe squeezed his hand, considered reaching out.

“Goodness,” Sung mumbled, reaching up to push his hair back, “I’m sorry you all had to see me like that. So immature.” He shook his head, rubbed his chin-- he hadn’t gone quiet in sudden mourning, but in mortification. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Circe said. “It was cute to see what you were like before… everything happened.”

“But,” Sung insisted, “I was so--”

“Endearing,” Circe interrupted. She cupped his face in her hand, made him look up at her. 

Then, finally then, he thought to ask, “Where is this?”

“It’s us,” she answered. “This is the connection between us, while your backup transfers.”

Sung almost gasped in reverence in response. He shut his eye, leaned his face into her touch. “How long will this last?”

“As long as you want it to.”

_ Oh _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow, the end.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a welcome shock for Sung to be face to face with his wife. “Circe!” He cried, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief; finally, they had a Sung they knew again. He picked Circe up and spun around with her, just like he did when they were still married.

As in, married in the past, and no longer.

Because she dumped him. Over the phone. And then moved to Ladyworld, to live out her full lesbian potential.

“Christ,” Meouch sighed. He bumped his elbow against Havve’s. “Did she say when this backup was from?”

Thankfully, he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was, and Circe answered as she disentangled from Sung. "No-- it's from about a week before... well, a week before."

_ Oh god, _ Phobos echoed out into their minds.

"What?" Sung asked, finally able to hear them all again. "A week before what?"

"Uh," everyone seemed to cluck out, not wanting to answer. They all shared a nervous glance before Sung shook his head, moving on.

"Well, now that my wife is here, she can help me find that back up before she heads back to business!" He smiled up at her, holding her hands. "Where were you at, anyways?"

"Well, I was--"

"She can't be away that long," Meouch interrupted her. She and Sung looked at him, Circe silently pleading with him to keep going. "She does planetary management now, and we're so far out she can't even work remotely." He sauntered over. clapped Sung over the shoulder, not so gently trying to pull him back. "You know how she is, everything's absolutely going to shit without her."

"But she's already here! In for a penny, right dear?"

Circe gave a half shrug.

"Besides, she knows me better than anyone, so she'd know where I'd keep backups."

"I don't." Finally, finally, she had an inconsistency to dig in. "If I did, I would have told you all before I came all this way, wouldn't I? Like the Commander said, I can't be away from my work for very long."

"Oh," Sung mumbled, still high spirited. "It's gotta be somewhere more secure than you, then." He looked up at the sky as he thought, rocking back onto his heels and falling forward suddenly; back again, jolting forward, back forward. "I bet it's on Havve!"

Phobos snorted, stifling a laugh. A beat, and Meouch waved a hand back at him, shooting him a look. "Shut up," he muttered, pupils widening.

"That's settled!" Circe almost yelled, making them all jolt when she clapped her hands together, having dropped Sung’s. "Glad to help you along Doctor, I'll be heading back!"

"What?" Sung asked. "No," he said, then chanted as he shook his head, "no no no no! No, Circe, love, please stay." He started to grab for her hands again, fingers grasping up her arms, trying to convince her to stay. She let him take hold, but turned her head so she wouldn't have to look at him looking at her.

"I really can't be away much longer," she said softly, just loud enough for Sung to hear. "People need me back home-- back at work, they all rely on me."

Something seemed to finally click for Sung. He let go of Circe and took a step back. "Okay," he said, forcing a smile, "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't try to keep you here, that's selfish, I--" His lip quivered, and he shook his head. "Sorry. Go home, Circe."

She reached out, just past his cheek, to his ear. Pinched the lobe between her fingers. "Sorry to do this to you twice."

Sung didn't answer.

"You can come visit me. When this is all sorted."

Sung shrugged and she let go. "I'll let you know," he said, and she stepped back into the beam of her ship.

They stayed in that field for a while, Sung sitting on the hood of the van, watching the sky. He didn't move until Havve stood next to him, a silent urging to move on.

* * *

The first course of action upon them all getting home was, as per Sung's assumption, checking Havve's system for something that might be a backup.

"You sure it's not like, physically in him, like a black box?" Meouch asked. They were all crowded in the basement like how this all started, now with Havve hooked up to the computer rather than Sung.

"Certain," Sung replied. "That note I left is a file location. That's not my shorthand for physical locations. Besides," he muttered, rolling his neck, "I can barely fit the stuff Havve needs in his body, you really think I'd use him for my personal storage?"

Havve tilted his head at Sung, his hand almost twitching up from where it was clenched on his lap.

"Right, sorry," Sung mumbled. "I mean, do you think Havve would let me use him for my personal storage." He looked away from the screen, giving a pointed look to Havve. "Better?"

Havve didn't react, which was a yes.

They all settled into a quiet again, Meouch and Phobos quickly becoming bored watching Sung flick through files, trying to find the right path, the right starting point. Bored enough that they didn't notice him slowly and steadily becoming agitated, him squinting at the screen, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. They didn't notice the mounting tension at all until he stood up and started disconnecting Havve.

"You got it?" Meouch asked, looking up from the game of cards he and Phobos had started.

"It's not on him," Sung said.

"What?" Meouch asked.

"It's not on Havve," Sung repeated. "It's not on him, it's not on this old piece of-- I don't know where I am, Commander."

He was working himself into a frenzy, his body trying to keep up with his mind flitting about.

"Hey, hey hey hey," Meouch said, standing. "What about your other computer?"

"...I have another computer?"

Everyone nodded. "In your room," Meouch said, sending Sung up the basement stairs.

A moment after Sung was up there, he hollered, "Where's my room?!"

"Door by the kitchen," Meouch hollered back. There was stomping, the back door opening, slamming, then Sung's bedroom door, followed by a muffled "oh!"

Havve plodded up the stairs, Sung's forgotten phone in hand, note of the file location still open. He didn't crash into Sung at the top of the stairs like he expected; Sung was in his room, door wide open, curled into a knot in his desk chair in front of his computer. He was rummaging through the drawers, the user login screen staring him down.

As much as it went against every impulse Havve had, he didn't hang in the doorway and watch Sung struggle. Instead, he came up behind him and passed the phone over Sung's shoulder, setting it on the desk. He grabbed Sung's hand, getting a grip on his thumb, and pressing it onto the computer screen, on the 'enter password' form.

"Oh," Sung mumbled, "thank you. I thought it was--"

_ You wouldn't keep a password in the drawer, anyway _ , Havve explained before Sung could ask.

Sung set to the same task as before; a methodical search through pathways, trying to find the right entry; the note he left was just the ending of it, the final piece. He was determined, didn't notice nor acknowledge Havve sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him.

_ Maybe _ , Havve urged, worming his way into Sung's mind,  _ It's the same as Circe _ .

"What do you mean," Sung asked, pressing his thumbnail to his lip.

_ You just had to press your forehead to hers to load it up _ , Havve explained. Sung glanced at him.  _ You log into this by pressing your thumb to the screen, why couldn't you download a backup like that? _

Sung turned his head, licked the indent from his nail. "You think that's it?" he asked.

Havve shrugged.

Sung looked back at his monitor. At his whole set up. Two monitors, a tower, what looked like external hard drives. He stood, leaned over his desk, made sure everything was plugged in. He sat back down and gripped the sides of the main monitor-- it was widescreen, somehow still looked cobbled together. A sure grip on the sides, and Sung leaned across his desk, pressing his forehead to the middle of the screen, eye shut.

A frown, and he sat up. Grabbed the other monitor the same way, and pressed his forehead to the middle again. Then he stood, one hand steadying himself on the desk, the other resting on the tower and he pressed his head to the top of it.

He was trying to wrangle a hard drive closer when he noticed Havve’s shoulders jerking up and down, the lights of his eyes dimmed to lines, not circles.

He was laughing at Sung.

"And what is so funny?" Sung asked, using anger to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

_ You're stupid, Doctor. _

"What?!" Sung asked, putting down the hard drive and turning to Havve.

_ Well, not stupid. _ Havve leaned back on his hands, crossed an ankle up onto his knee.  _ Gullible, that’s what I meant. _

"Havve, this isn't funny!" Sung sat down with a thump, trying to reign himself in. "I've lost years of my life, and you're making fun of me."

Havve considered telling him not to pout, but knew it would have the opposite effect.  _ You know what you keep on that? _ he asked instead. Sung shook his head.  _ All the music we've ever made. _ Havve stood, breezed past Sung without touching him, heading to the door.  _ You're sentimental. Kept your parents old machine, kept the you that hadn't lost them. You kept note of that married version of yourself, even when you haven't spoken to her since she left. _ Havve stood in the doorway, watching Sung just like before he came in.

"You knew a backup was on here the whole time, didn't you," Sung stated, fighting the twitch up of his lips, the muscles in his forehead.

_ No, I just know you. _ Havve slipped out, shut the door behind him. Sung turned back to his desk, searching again with more purpose, direction.

"Know me," Sung muttered to himself as he got up, looking for the equipment to connect himself. He grinned, shook his head as he unspooled wires, plugged them into the back of the tower.  _ Load of crock, _ he thought, hoping Havve would hear him.  _ Just say you love teasing me. _

Shortly after, the power pulsed in the house. Wavered. It shut off fully for a second, like the breaker went, and then came back; every light in the house burst on at full power, the appliances plugged in on the counter coming on just fast enough to startle everyone.

Phobos stomped down from his room, hair a mess despite having only just gone to bed.

_ That better mean he got it,  _ he thought out on a current of bitterness. He sat next to Meouch at the dining table, taking the mug of coffee from him and clutching it between his palms, inhaling deeply.

As if it was only to stop the future of an overtired Phobos going on a rampage, Sung stepped out of his room. Meouch and Phobos stared at him. Havve turned, twisted, looked over the back of the couch.

All eyes on him, Sung grinned. He jumped into the air, kicking his leg as high as he could. He landed with a thud, a wobble, and stood back up, straight and proud, arms in the air like he'd just landed a gold medal winning jump at the Olympics.

He was back to normal, and as insufferable as ever.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello thats the first chapter done! i will link addy's art as soon as possible, both right at the beginning and again in the chapter its for.  
> happy bang week yall.


End file.
